


you're gonna catch heaven when i get home

by softnow



Category: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (TV)
Genre: Also fluffy as hell so, Bless canon for making that a legit thing, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Having enthusiastic sex, Just two happy horny nerds, Nathaniel always makes sure she's taken care of first, Nathaniel x Oral Fixation, Obligatory mentions of the 3.07 sexting, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post 3.07 Fill-in-the-Blank, Pretty much just straight up smut not gonna lie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 04:07:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14686131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softnow/pseuds/softnow
Summary: “So, remember the day I chased you around the conference room and then jumped on you like a flying squirrel move?”He can’t help but laugh because how could he forget that? Furious Rebecca Bunch, in her fancy dress and sneakers, leaping over tables and threatening his life with a ballpoint pen. He’d known then that there was something different about her, and if he were feeling particularly honest (and what the hell, he’s barefoot and she’s beautiful and why not), he’d started wanting her then and hasn’t stopped yet.





	you're gonna catch heaven when i get home

**Author's Note:**

> written for [day 4 (favorite kiss) of rethaniel appreciation week](http://lozkelly.tumblr.com/post/173542735317/please-join-me-for-our-very-first-rethaniel) on tumblr. 
> 
> title is a slight alteration of a loretta lynn song (which, tbh, isn't actually that good unless you're into old school country, so don't feel obligated to look it up).
> 
> this wasn't originally going to be nearly so long or so dirty, but you can thank [sarah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notbang) for encouraging the length and the filth. this is both for and because of you. enjoy. xx

When somebody knocks on his door, he’s in the middle of trying to craft the perfect pickup line. He’s never been one to use them—preferring to rely on his natural charm and wit—and if last night was any indication, he knows he doesn’t even need to use words to hook her. But he wants to, mostly because pickup lines are inherently a little ridiculous, and he’s had her laugh burned into his brain for two days now, and he wants to cause that again, even if he’s not there to see it.

(He thinks he’d do just about anything if it would keep her laughing.)

But then there’s the knock, and he sets his phone aside with a frown that morphs into a pleased smile when he opens the door, because he definitely wasn’t expecting _this_ —Rebecca, soft and fresh-faced, looking happy and a little shy. He didn’t even know she was back on the west coast yet, but he’s certainly not complaining.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” 

“How was your trip?” 

She smiles and ignores the question. “So, remember the day I chased you around the conference room and then jumped on you like a flying squirrel move?”

He can’t help but laugh because how could he forget that? Furious Rebecca Bunch, in her fancy dress and sneakers, leaping over tables and threatening his life with a ballpoint pen. He’d known then that there was something different about her, and if he were feeling particularly honest (and what the hell, he’s barefoot and she’s beautiful and why not), he’d started wanting her then and hasn’t stopped yet.

“I do. Yes.”

She laughs and he grins, gratified, even if he’s not sure where she’s going with this. But then she says, “Okay, stand back,” and drops her purse inside the door, and he’s getting the picture, and _oh_. He’s definitely thought about this—many, many times, he’s thought about this—and he obediently backs up, face going slack with want as she gives herself some room to get a running start.

She comes at him with a grin and two squirrel-claws and he bends at the knees to catch her, scooping her easily into his arms. His hands find her thigh and the soft curve of her ass as she grips his neck and then she’s there, leaning in to press her mouth to his, and she’s sweet and warm and everything he’s missed since the night of the masquerade. 

Rebecca moans against him, a soft, relieved sound like she’s missed this just as much, and he grips her harder. Her lips part under his, and he tastes her chapstick and the faint residue of cola on her tongue. She squeezes her legs around his waist and he thrusts against her involuntarily, a little embarrassed by how turned on he is already. But then she makes another sound—somewhere between a whine and a sigh—and the only thing he’s thinking of is taking her to bed.

Somehow, he manages to remember to close the door with a haphazard fling of his arm and then he stumbles to the bed. She’s hungry against him, kissing him deeply and enthusiastically, and he nearly trips over a whole host of things—the bench, the rug, his own feet—before he makes it.

He topples to the mattress with her still clinging onto him and softens her landing with his arms, easing his weight onto her and gasping for breath in between kisses. Her hands are on his neck, his shoulders, his back, and _god_ it feels good. When she hikes a leg over his hip, he shudders against her and wants nothing more than to let go, to give her whatever she wants. But there’s something else, something more important, and he pulls back.

Her eyes are dark and heavily lidded, her lips parted and damp, and for a moment, all he can do is stare. He can see in her unfocused gaze and the heavy way she’s breathing that she wants this, but her words ring in his head ( _I don’t know if I can have sex!_ ) and he has to know that this won’t be a mistake.

“Are you sure this is okay with your therapy thing?”

He watches as she furrows her brow and shakes her head like it physically pains her to be talking and not kissing right now.

“Just shut up,” she says, and the insistent way she drags him back down is all the confirmation he needs.

She kisses him desperately and he gives as good as he gets. His hands roam her body, unable to settle anywhere because he wants to touch every part of her at once, to take stock of her with his fingertips and assure himself that she’s okay, she’s fine, she’s here. 

He pushes her sweater up and she tugs at the back of his t-shirt and they part long enough to fling the garments over the side of the bed before crashing together again. The feeling of her skin on his is intoxicating. He’s still not used to it, and he finds himself surprised all over again by how soft and supple she is. He could get lost in the curve of her waist, the smooth expanse of her clavicle, the valley between her breasts. 

When he slides a hand beneath her to undo the clasp of her bra, she arches against him and rolls her hips in the most delightful, tortuous way. 

“Jesus,” he groans, breaking the kiss to rest his forehead against hers. 

“Mm-hmmm.” She uses a hand in his hair to pull his head to the side and sinks her teeth gently into the skin of his neck just below his ear.

He jerks against her and then adjusts the angle to press himself firmly between her thighs, letting her feel how much he wants this and taking pride in the way her lips falter against him when she does. 

“Hey,” she says, and he pulls back to look at her. There’s an impish look on her face, her eyes sparkling, and he knows the answer to whatever she’s about to say will be _yes_. “You know the thing we talked about the other night? On the phone?”

“Mmm.” He quirks a eyebrow and leans in to pepper her chest with kisses. “We talked about a lot of stuff the other night. Refresh my memory.”

“The thing you said you wanted to do with your mou— _oh_.”

He closes his mouth around her nipple and flicks it with his tongue. “This?” he asks and tugs at it gently with his teeth.

She gasps and throws her head back and he takes a moment to revise his earlier thought. He thinks he’d do just about anything if it would keep her laughing _and_ writhing beneath him like this.

“No, the other…”

“Oh,” he says sagely. “You mean _this_?” And he takes her other nipple between his lips, sucking firmly and delighting in the way she claws at his shoulders.

“God, Nathaniel—”

“What?” he mumbles against her breast. “This isn’t what you wanted?”

“Yes—I mean, _no_ , but that does feel… Um…” Her voice fades away as he rings her nipple with the point of his tongue and massages her other breast with his hand.

“Hmmm?” He kisses her puckered skin and pulls back, propping himself on his forearm. Her brow is furrowed in frustration and she’s breathing shallowly through parted lips and the surge of arousal he feels just looking at her is almost enough to make him cave. But he wants to tease her, to hear her say it, so he leans in to nose the edge of her jaw and whispers, “What do you want then?”

“Your mouth…”

“Uh-huh.” He kisses her pulse point. “Where?”

“Between my legs.” She squeezes his hips between her thighs as punctuation.

“Ah,” he breathes against her neck and moves his hand to grip the inside of her knee. “Here? Is this where you want me?”

She makes a strangled and deeply satisfying noise low in her throat and shakes her head. “Higher.”

“Mm.” He trails his hand up to squeeze her thigh. “Is this it?”

“Keep going.”

“Oh, I see.” He shifts his weight to the side and cups her through her jeans. He can feel her heat despite the fabric and _fuck_. Rebecca arches into his touch. “Right here?”

“Right there,” she agrees, her voice breathy, and that’s enough teasing, he thinks.

He moves down her body, undoing her pants and pulling them off with her underwear in one smooth motion. He settles himself between her thighs and feels something very primal and gratifying when he sees how wet she is.

“ _Fuck_ , Rebecca.” 

When he leans in to press his mouth to her overheated flesh, it’s as much to satisfy his own need as it is to satisfy hers. He hooks his arms beneath her thighs and explores her with his tongue. Her little gasps and cries of encouragement wash over him and he lets himself get carried away, kissing her hungrily before focusing his attention on where he knows she needs him.

Her hips threaten to leave the mattress as he drags the flat of his tongue over her clit and he grips them roughly to keep her still. Some distant part of him wonders if it’s hurting her, but then she grabs his wrist with equal strength and makes the most incredible keening noise, and he redoubles his efforts on her clit. 

When her legs begin trembling around him, she tries to tug him up to her but he catches her hand and pins it to the mattress. Part of _that thing he said he wanted to do with his mouth_ involves making her finish, and he intends to do it. 

It doesn’t take long. He alternates between drawing tight circles with his tongue and sucking at her, and then she’s breaking beneath him. Her hips pump erratically against his face as her body convulses and he doesn’t let up, determined to keep her coming for as long as he can. 

He feels lightheaded and a little drunk when she’s finally reduced to gentle aftershocks and fast, ragged breaths. He pulls away from her with one last, long lick that makes her quake and gazes up her body, splayed out before him like a fucking ten-course meal of every rich, luxurious food he can think of—one he’d gladly gorge himself on with no reservations. 

Her chest and cheeks are flushed red, and when she raises her head to look at him, he’s surprised by the desire still in her eyes. 

“Come here,” she says, and he goes eagerly. 

The kiss is messy and loose, and he grinds himself against her thigh. The pressure below his belt has become almost unbearable, and maybe she senses that, because she breaks the kiss to press her mouth to his ear.

“Lose the pants, get a condom, and fuck me already.”

He considers pointing out that he technically already did that with his mouth, and was that not good enough for her, because she definitely seemed to enjoy it, but then she reaches for him through his jeans and he relinquishes his grip on any thoughts that aren’t _lose the pants, get a condom, and fuck her already_. 

He scrambles from the bed to do just that, and he turns back to her—pants lost, condom on—to find her toying with herself and watching him through heavily lidded eyes. 

“Have I ever told you,” he says, settling on top of her and kissing her shoulder, her throat, her chin, “that you are _ridiculously_ sexy?”

“Hmm-mmm.” She cradles his hips between her thighs and sucks in a breath when his cock nudges her sensitive skin. 

“You are.” He brushes a strand of hair out of her face and leans in to press his lips against hers. 

“Want you,” she mumbles, and he has no intentions of denying her anything she wants. Especially not when it’s something he wants so badly, too.

He lines himself up and sinks into her with one long thrust. Their moans mingle in the scant space between their mouths and he stills, giving her a moment to adjust to him. But then she digs her heels into the backs of his thighs and makes an impatient noise, and _fuck_ if this isn’t even better than the last time.

Rebecca wraps her arms tightly around his neck and lifts her hips to meet his thrusts, and she’s tight and hot and _here_ , breathing against him, sliding against him, moaning on his tongue, and he’s never felt so turned on and so relieved at the same time.

He tries to set the slow, luxurious pace he remembers her liking from the last time, but all of the waiting has whittled his self-control down to a nub and he pushes into her hard and fast. She accepts him eagerly, gasping _yes_ and _fuck_ between kisses. 

It isn’t long before he feels himself hurtling towards release, but he wants her there with him, wants to see her face as she’s overcome with pleasure. He kisses her once more, _hard_ , and then stretches up to grab one of the slats in his headboard, shifting the angle of their bodies so his pelvis grinds against her clit with each thrust. The results are immediate—her mouth falls open and her forehead wrinkles, and _god_ , it really should be illegal for her to look so fucking good. 

She rakes her nails over his shoulders, down his sides, and he’s reminded of what started all of this in the first place, of those flying squirrel claws, of the conference room and her in that dress moving above him, and he can’t hold on any longer. 

He comes with her name on his lips, half benediction, half supplication. As the white-hot sensation fades, leaving him heavy and breathless, he manages to slip a hand between their bodies and rub her clit with his thumb, desperate to get her there, too. 

“You feel so good,” he pants in her ear. “So fucking good.”

All it takes is a flick of his wrist and one last thrust of his still-hard cock and she’s cresting for a second time. Her orgasm crashes over her like a wave and he shudders from the sensation of her body rolling against his. 

They lay there for a long moment, partially joined and breathing heavily. Rebecca traces a hand up his shoulder and fiddles with the shell of his ear. She grins. 

“Maybe I should jump you more often,” she says.

Nathaniel can’t help it. He laughs, a full, happy sound, and kisses her smile. She’s rumpled and messy and glowing when he pulls back.

“Oh, please do,” he says.

She giggles and shifts under him, and the dampness and stickiness of the situation settles in. He reluctantly leaves the warmth of her body to dispose of the condom while she scuttles, bare-assed, to the bathroom. 

When she returns, he’s pulled the bed down and is waiting under the covers. She pauses in the doorway and stares at him long enough to make him feel a little self conscious.

“Are you staying tonight?” he asks and is relieved when her face breaks into another wide smile.

She crawls into bed next to him and drapes herself over him, scooting as close as possible. He rests a hand on the curve of her waist and rubs his thumb over her sweat-sticky skin.

“Mm… I’m hungry.” She props herself up with a hand on his chest and looks at him with big doe eyes, and she hasn’t even asked for anything yet, but he can already feel his resolve slipping. “Can we order a pizza? Please?”

Nathaniel groans. “Seriously?”

“Please?” She pouts. “It can even have a veggie! _Two_ veggies! Green ones…” She pokes a finger into his ribs and he squirms against her, then pulls her close. 

“If I say yes—” He kisses her nose. “—can we try the other thing we talked about on the phone?"

Rebecca gasps and makes a face of mock-outrage. “Nathaniel _Plimpton!_ Are you propositioning me with dinner to get more sex?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Is it working?”

(It works.)

(Oh, does it work.)


End file.
